


Understanding

by Ydream08



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Completed, F/M, Finished, Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-08-01 10:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16282604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ydream08/pseuds/Ydream08
Summary: Harry copes with stress in an unexpected way. While meeting his needs, Hermione grows to like him more than a friend. If she is to request more, their understanding will be broken. What will it take for Harry to give them a fair chance?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!
> 
> This is me trying to figure out Harmony. I can't seem to come up with a plot for these two, but I'll try to explore this scenario. I'm not promising anything.
> 
> -Ydream08

Harry had thought it wouldn't happen again.

"Fuck," he seethed as the sound of his balls slapping to her thighs echoed in the silent common room. His grunts easily mixed with her mewls and Harry couldn't remember what was so bad about this idea.

His fingers dipped harder to her hips to move her on his length, it helped that she met with his thrusts but still. She was unbelievably tight. And hot. So fucking beautiful, she was.

Holding onto the back of the couch, her arse bared with her skirt pooled around her waist, all Harry could see was her profile. Her riatus curls even obscured that small peek of perfection, but Harry reminded himself that he would take her from the front next time.

Shamefully aware how his own trousers had slipped off his arse, Harry quickened the pace so that they could both be over and retreat to their rooms.

Reaching for her clit, Harry sluggishly circled it, trying his hardest to tip her off the edge so that he could find his release too. Her gasps came more frequent and finally she stilled long enough that Harry understood she was strung like a wire. Her walls clenched tighter around him that one last time, and Harry rode her orgasm to find his own in a few thrusts.

His deep groan was less likely to be noticed than what would have been her scream if she hadn't had bitten down on a cushion.

Sighing, he slipped outside and got to arrange his clothing. She was ready much quicker than him, which only caused him to fumble with his buttons and curse at his clumsiness.

He was aware of her blush, the short glances thrown his way as she cleared her throat.

"I'll see you in the morning," she whispered to which Harry would have nodded better if it were not for his misplaced glasses.

Correcting them, he was only able to catch her disappear to the stairs of the girls' dormitory. "See you, Hermione."

* * *

"I'm telling you, mate, she's barking mad!" Ron whispered. His eyes searching Three Broomsticks whether the subject of his distress was around.

"And you've only now realized?" Hermione asked indignantly. She lowered her Butterbeer which had left a mustache of foam over her lips. Harry averted his gaze and scrunched his face lest the images of licking the white line to finally claim her lips overwhelmed him. This had to stop.

"Oh, what? I'm the one to blame? You were damn jealous I had a girlfriend-"

"I was not jealous," shrieked Hermione.

"-You fucking were! You didn't speak to me for _weeks._ "

"Because you were acting like a sod." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why would I ever be jealous of your _friendship_ with Lavender Brown of all people?"

"It's fine, mate," Harry intervened. "You're rid of her, right? Quidditch is going well this season, you are the best Keeper and we still have months till our mid-term exams. Lots of time to study."

Harry looked at Hermione at the last part, she sighed but corrected. "Seven weeks precisely."

Nodding, Harry wrecked his brain to change the subject and Hermione's distraction gave the best excuse.

Ron followed her gaze first. "I can't believe she's with Dean. Look at them."

Harry looked over his shoulder to see Ginny and Dean snuggled up in a booth by the corner. As if sensing his gaze, Ginny made eye contact with him but he shrugged and turned away. He wasn't interested anymore, if he were to be honest.

Getting trapped in Hermione's serious gaze, Harry swallowed thinking what he had done wrong. Sure, he and Ginny were over, and somehow Hermione had filled the space left by the younger Weasley, but Harry felt like he was getting himself into trouble.

Ron's anger over his sister's overtly affection dimmed when Hermione interjected him to be reasonable, giving example how Ginny had never intervened to Ron and Lavender's snogging sessions in the common room, but even that didn't calm the agitated silence of the trio.

Harry looked back at Hermione. She stared off at the couple, Ginny and Dean, and what Harry saw in her eyes were inspection and longing both.

He couldn't give her that. There had not been a conversation, but Hermione knew. It had started as a means to relieve stress, both were aware.

Harry and Ginny had been in one of those tense fights. Not like they had been seeing each other. Their strained relationship was precisely because they were not- a couple, that is.

Hormones and whatnot, of course Harry had been daydreaming in class about ravishing Ginny without all of the emotional burden she brought- because damn Merlin, but Harry was attracted to her on a basal level first, her character and humour aside. And he was a young man whose needs climbed to unnecessary heights.

So when he had angrily thrown his bag on the ground and sat plump next to Hermione to vent about Ginny's irrational behaviour, his focus had been diverted by Hermione's more feminine features he had never grown to appreciate.

First he had noticed how her skirt rode up on her thighs with how she sat one leg under her bosom. Then it was the peak of her bra where her shirt was tight enough that the buttons barely held the hems together. And finally her smell when she hugged to console him that Harry found that his wild ideas were quite very much applicable on Hermione as well.

And without thinking, he had nipped at her neck where he had already buried his head. She had gasped, asking him what he was doing. But her voice had turned on something in him that urged him to kiss, lick and nibble at her soft flesh while one of his arms circling around her loosened, and his hand found to cup her arse.

He had lifted her into his lap and snogged the daylights out of her that day. And the next, when Hermione had drawn him to an alcove to talk about it in private he had fucked her into bliss.

That had been the first time. Now, as the sixth year was slightly more than half over, Harry had established a regular understanding with her.

Most of the time Harry was the one to seek out this... _understanding_. Hermione went along with it, thankfully. Their exchange helped her to forget Ron, Harry understood. He speculated that's why Hermione continued it.

For Harry, the advantage that Ginny was already gone from his mind as he grew a liking to Hermione's curls, had been the first motivator, but nowadays he liked having his cock buried in Hermione. It made all of his problems very far away.

Harry wasn't blind to see Hermione would soon request more, though. If not from him and somebody else, still their understanding had to be ended. But for now, he dismissed the cry of his own conscious in favor of Occlumency lessons with Snape and coaxing Slughorn for information.

When Katie Bell got cursed on their way back to school, Harry had forgotten all about the concern of a relationship. There was a world to save.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"First Katie, now Ron. I'm telling you, Hermione, it's Malfoy."

Hermione didn't know what to say. Ron in the Hospital Wing and Harry going berserk with his theories, she was growing tired of the tempo. They had newly finished their exams as well. All three combined, not to forget how Harry walked out of Occlumency lessons for good, Hermione had been spending much more time with Harry.

In every sense.

"Harry, he's not a Death Eater." Lessons with Snape had risen his suspicions on the Slytherin rather than teaching him anything. "He is not the sort to give Katie a cursed necklace."

"You saw him purchase one in Borgin and Burkes!" Harry protested.

Hermione shook her head. She was really fed up with Harry's stubbornness sometimes.

"Fine, Harry as you say. C'mon, we're going to be late," she commented. They were in a corridor outside of the Great Hall. Harry had caught up with her here, just when she had finished her breakfast. He had slept over, and for once Hermione thought he would skip the class altogether. Ron's poisoning had messed him up.

Just as she acted to walk ahead, she noticed Harry adjusting his bag while holding his potions book to his chest. It was the Prince's book. Hermione had never thought she would ever think of a book as sinister, even with the ones she saw in the Restricted Section, but this book was no good. And helping Harry to cheat his way in potions would be its mildest harm, Hermione suspected.

She huffed at seeing Harry's protectiveness over it, and for this one time restrained from saying anything and opted to storm out.

Catching her wrist, Harry didn't let her.

"Hey," he whispered, having masterfully spun her to his arms. "Everything aside, what do you say we sneak to the Prefect's bathroom tonight? The common room would be busy with the essays due tomorrow."

Hermione exhaled, conflicted how this proposition thrilled and annoyed her at the same time. The first time Harry had kissed her, she had been confident that he had been nuts. He was in love with Ginny and her Ron! Well, those days her unrequited love and Ron's insistent idiocy over choosing Lavender Brown had been unkind to her thoughts over her crush, but still.

She would have cleared the misunderstanding with explaining to Harry how she understood him for that mistake. It would have worked out fine if Harry hadn't gone and done the same mistake again in that alcove, then proceeded to turn it into a humongous mistake.

Her analytic brain had went overdrive with her sadiated body and mixed emotions. It had felt wrong to like Harry's attention while she thought to be in love with Ron. She had found the solution with hiding out in the library to make up her mind. Harry was her best friend, first. Surely, he would see reason.

Then, one of those days he visited her in the library to talk. They hadn't achieved much talking, if her memory served her right.

Even that day she was aware exactly why she accepted Harry's affection, and sought for him in the following days.

He wanted her.

While Ron was happy snogging Lavender's face, Harry was the one to find her, soothe her, adore her, compliment her and make her feel sensations Hermione had only chance to read in some instructive books. And her mother's cheesy romance novels. It was nearly as good as how they described it. It got better with practice, too.

What had sealed the deal for Hermione, so to speak, instead of tipping her off the edge of insanity over the situation was that the following weeks while she observed Harry, she found that he no longer seemed interested in anybody else. Not even Ginny. This... _thing_ was not just out of convenience, Hermione understood. Not that it was love or anything...

It had been awkward at first, actually. They had tried to ignore each other, but to no vain. Just as she hid in the library, Harry had taken a habit of practicing Quidditch twenty-four-seven. Even with how less she saw him, generally during meals and classes, Hermione did notice his eyes strayed to her. She would blush and try to not mind it, but more than a few times they had ended up in the broom closet after he gave her those looks.

It had helped Harry that Hermione accepted this understanding and their everyday conversation hadn't changed. This made Harry bolder even. Like how he asked to shag in the common room as to spice things up. Or sneak in the Prefect's bathroom like right now.

"Maybe," Hermione managed, blushing. When he smiled and went to correct his glasses, she saw the potions book again and how diligently Harry held it. Anger bubbled in her and she blurted out: "Will you use it still? The Prince's book?"

"Hermione don't start again-"

"You're unbelievable!" Hermione shrieked, exasperated. He could be an idiot sometimes!

"We'll fight over this tomorrow, yeah? Tonight the Prefect's bathroom?"

"We'll be late to class," she said instead but Harry Potter had done one thing right: All day she wondered how their exertion would work with water and a tub.

Unfortunately Ron was discharged the very same day and their plan had to be delayed. Her annoyance that Ronald intervened to her matters and happiness still, gave her an edge throughout their conversation. And listening to Harry rave about Malfoy again, Hermione left the two on their own and briskly stomped to her dormitory.

Getting under her covers, Hermione couldn't sleep with her mind reminding her of the scenarios she had contemplated for tonight. Would Harry have come up to the girls' room, whispered for Hermione and when she was up, would he take her hand and rush her to the fifth floor?

The Invisibility Cloak would force them to be closer, and slower with their steps. By the time they arrived, the anticipation and proximity of Harry would drench Hermione. What would he do next, though?

Her fingers ghosting over her lips now, Hermione remembered all those times Harry cupped her cheeks and met their lips together. The contact was soft and warm. And soon it would progress and she would taste his sweet tongue.

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed, knowing full well where her thoughts were going. Her hand dipped back under the cover and she removed her bra which she had forgotten.

Cupping her breast, she recalled how Harry's own hands roamed over her, back in the library, the boys' room, broom closets and alcoves. Right now it was the Prefect's bathroom, and the tiles echoed with their missteps as both worked to shed each other of their clothes.

Hermione liked it when Harry reached around her to cup her arse. He had grown taller, lithe but muscular with all the Quidditch practice, and his arms enclosing around her felt safe and endearing.

They would continue to kiss, sometimes their smiles breaking their synch, but it would feel like Harry would never step away from their embrace. Of course, he had to fill the tub but that was a minor setback.

Hermione's other hand found her sex, and she parted her lower lips to run a finger over. Climbing upwards, her finger circled over her clit to make the reality catch up with her imagination.

Harry would have fingered her already. Two digits would have entered her to check her tightness, and her response of meeting his hand would have him cursing and kissing her all over again.

Dripping wet, he would have beckoned her to the tub, and cool water would lick every inch of Hermione as she would have liked Harry to do. For now his hands rubbing her sides was enough; it built her inner heat once again.

Snogging her senseless, Harry would urge her to wrap her legs around his narrow waist and unaware to Hermione he would walk deeper into the big tub. The Prefect's bathroom was more like a pool, than a tub actually.

His shaft trapped between their bodies and sweetly pressing to her opening would drive Hermione insane but before she could contemplate how to get her so desired penetration, Harry bloody Potter would dive them in the water.

Of course her shriek and smack to his shoulder would make him laugh. As he swam them to a corner, he would smilingly kiss her cheeks, jaw and he would trail to her neck and shoulders, which would morph her shrieks into moans.

Hermione squeezed her breast, imagining how Harry would latch onto a nipple next. He would hold the other one just like she did now, while his tongue cleared the tap water from her skin. And he would suck and bite and pull so that she would be panting.

Aware that her juices were descending to her arse, Hermione finally pumped fingers inside when she imagined Harry would plunge in. His cock would separate her, her walls welcoming him inch by inch and being full would give the most pleasurable pressure around her nether region.

Hermione's pants quicked, echoing in the bathroom in her mind but mixing with the rustling of her blanket in the solitude of the room. She felt her orgasm climb as her muscles tightened and her hip slightly rose from the mattress to meet with thrusts she felt so vividly in her fantasy. Oh, Harry would drive right home. Her back would chafe by the tiles to which he fucked her. And the cool water would no longer be any reliever compared to his cock impaling in her.

As though hearing his grunt next to her ear and her own wanton moans, Hermione re-lived that exact moment when his release filled her with scorching cum that her abdomen felt tingly, and next she knew she had orgasmed. Alone. In her bed.

Exhaling to steady her breathing, Hermione dipped back to her bed and cleared her mind. She was sadiated, but a small part of her felt trapped.

This could not continue like this, could it?

Thinking back to Harry's insistence of using the Prince's book, Malfoy being a Death Eater and overall doing nothing she encouraged for his own good, found Hermione growing agitated by her best-friend.

_Best friend?_

Harry was no longer just a best friend, Hermione corrected herself. They had crossed that line some time ago. But apparently that didn't change the fact that he was capable of being an utter prat.

When came morning and the trio sat at breakfast, Ron's snide comment about McLaggen leering at her undid her. Both of these dunderheads would never understand her! She didn't want to see either of them, let alone ask Harry to join her for Slughorn's party.

That day potions class increased her turmoil, if nothing else. Harry won Liquid Luck simply by cheating. Him and his idiot book. She had done _everything_ right. Every single thing. Had read the instruction thrice even!

Ron, of course, didn't side with her when she broke to Harry what he had done was wrong.

To teach them some sense, Hermione decided it wouldn't hurt to accept the elder Gryffindor's invite to the Slug Party.


	3. Chapter 3

It was human to make mistakes. Make the wrong call, bear its consequences and feel guilty over it.

Why had Hermione affirmed McLaggen's invite, again?

As she lifted the curtains to hide away, she didn't remember the exact reason. "Stupid, stupid… I'm really stupid."

"Hermione-" She gasped and turned around. There stood Harry Potter in a sharp suit, black tie and fixed glasses. "Are you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you very much. And I'm enjoying my time in the party if you excuse me."

Facing away, she didn't expect Harry to turn her around by her shoulder. "What, Harry?"

"Everything's not fine, Hermione. I'm not an idiot."

"Hard to forget sometimes," she mumbled to which Harry exhaled.

"Is it about the book? Liquid Luck? What is it, Hermione? You haven't talked to me this past week. And out of nowhere you come to the party with a git like McLaggen."

Hermione snorted. As if he had asked her to come with him! He and Ron were chummy, gossiping behind her back. They must have already planned how to take out Malfoy, rat him out to Dumbledore and get him expelled.

"Whenever you're up to listen to me, really _listen_ to me, I will be there," Hermione spat and freed herself from his clutch.

Hermione didn't notice Harry coming into the party after her, set to pull her into a corner, because her entrance was the same moment a commotion broke and Malfoy's screams filled the party.

Filch had spotted him out of curfew without pass to the party. Snape intervened of course, but Hermione felt the mood of the party shift. Not that she would have stayed longer if it hadn't.

Just before going outside, Hermione skimmed the crowd one last time if Harry would catch up with her. Of course, he wouldn't. He was probably looking around for Ginny. Or Cho. Both were here in the party.

She exited without a second thought.

* * *

Hermione's attitude got worse, as if possible. Harry didn't know what her discontent stemmed from, but she was hard to come close nowadays, let alone speak and reason. He knew something had changed since before the Slug Party, but the morning Harry faked putting Felix Felicis in Ron's goblet, Hermione looked at him as if she wished to kill him. Would have done, too, if the Great Hall hadn't been full of possible witnesses.

"Are you out of your mind! Do you know what you did?" she hissed, when she managed to drag him behind the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"So now we are talking?" Harry shot to her. He was disappointed that she had easily discarded him. Just like that he no longer was in her life. Two weeks of silent treatment.

"We never- that's beside the point! I saw what you did-"

"-And? Nothing's wrong with it, Hermione. Now, I have a game to play."

Leaving her with mouth dropped open, shocked out of words, made Harry both proud and angry. Hermione should have talked with him, so she really deserved his comeback. But on the other hand, Harry was angry at her for creating this mess. He would have rather snogged her for good luck and had the two things that made him truly happy this year: Quidditch and her.

But no such luck.

* * *

Hermione closed her book because obviously she could no longer read it where all the Gryffindors celebrated their win. And Ronald, their king. She had not seen the game but with Liquid Luck on his side, Hermione needn't see the new keeper's legendary saves.

It was truly unbelievable that Harry had done this.

Shaking her head, she opted to go back to the dormitory but it was easier said than done. People obstructed her way, all of them crowded around the Quidditch players. Ron's victory kiss earned wolf whistles in the common room, too.

"Running away already?" Harry asked. He had crept near her whilst she had been immobile where she observed her best friend. The ginger one.

Hermione shrugged. "Too loud to study."

"Look," Harry started to which Hermione rolled her eyes. This time she did not want to listen.

"Harry-"

She hushed when a small vial was shoved to her face. It was the very same one Slughorn held on the day he had awarded the best potioneer of the class, who had turned out to be Harry. The legendary Felix Felicis, its vial uncorked and content untouched.

"But it's…"

"I made him believe he drank it," Harry explained. "Ron is a great Keeper. His anxiety just had to step out of his way, and I thought… well, it worked. I'm not sorry that I did it. But I am sorry for my behaviour."

Hermione rose her brows. Pleased with Harry and thankful for his initiative. Although she was aware their unnecessary quarrel had valid reasons, it wasn't worth stretching out. The downside since the Slug Party where she had understood going with McLaggen had been a huge mistake, was that Hermione hadn't been able to suck up her pride and apologize. Maybe she wouldn't have apologize, she wouldn't even now, but to talk with Harry again would have been a sound step to take.

"It's alright. With the McLaggen surprise I pulled, I can't say anything for your lack of sharing."

Harry grinned. "Surprise indeed. I bet my money you regret it-"

"Harry James Potter-"

"What? Don't you?"

Hermione sighed as a sweet smile reached her lips. It was short-lived, however. When Harry took a step closer to her to whisper in her ear, Hermione panicked, both because they were in the middle of a _crowded_ common room and also she was terrified what Harry would say about their understanding.

They had never talked about it, and this was the first long silence of both sides ever since the arrangement.

In Hermione's mind, Harry would ask if she was still up to spending the night with him, and at that moment Hermione would rather jump in front of unfed Fluffy than to hear him out.

Taking a quick step back, Hermione plastered a smile devoid of anxiousness. "Friends again?"

Hermione precisely saw how her words left an effect very much similar to bumping face-first into an invisible glass. Harry's confusion only let him mutter a half affirmative and next Hermione nodded and made herself scarce.

She wouldn't have survived if Harry had dismissively told her their physical proximity could continue now that the air was cleared. Her world would have shattered knowing that she no longer saw her best friend Harry Potter as only that; he was more for her. Someone she wished to get to know more intimately. Physically and emotionally both.

Now she could not ask that of him, though. Her Gryffindor courage was not as endless, thank you very much. Maybe another day. Tomorrow. Next week. _Never?_

 


	4. Chapter 4

_It was one hell of a night. Harry still couldn't believe the lengths he had gone to persuade Slughorn to eventually fail. The Professor had been so livid when Harry had come clean about his intention of seeking the memory of young Voldemort. He had been so enraged that Harry had thought, for a split second, that the elder wizard would lock his door in their faces whilst a drugged Ron hung in Harry's arms._

_Harry could fight dark wizards and defeat monsters, ranging from Trolls to Basilisks, but he was incompetent when it came to reversing love potions. He felt guilty now that a small part of him had seen the situation as an opportunity. Let Ron think he was in love with Romilda Vane! What was the harm, right? But the gain had sparkled in Harry's eyes. How else could he have knocked on Slughorn's door in the middle of the night? After a less than pleasant encounter, not to mention._

_The man had offered them wine, even._

_Snorting at the recollection, Harry glanced back at the pale face of Ron. The sick hue remained as his body had only recently won against the poison thanks to Madam Pomfrey's potions._

_Harry was an idiot. A quick thinking idiot, who was thanking the Half-Blood Prince for the tip of Bezoar, but still._

_Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been alerted in the middle of the night, but as dawn broke, the siblings were yet to arrive._

_It would not matter. Harry didn't intend to be removed from his seat. His mate, his brother, needed him._

_Harry exhaled and forced his tension to ease out. Rolling his hips on the chair and gathering his arms, he let his head fall to the back of the chair. There would be a couple of hours yet before he was kicked out to classes._

_"Mr. Potter, I will insist you go take a quick nap, at least."_

_Harry straightened and pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose. Shaking his head, he watched as Madam Pomfrey tended to Ron and exchanged reassuring nods with the parents._

_Exhaustion cleared his mind of any thought. The pounding in his head would have prevented any decent theory in his mind, but he was sick of questioning the 'why's. Why was Ron poisoned? Why was a poison in the school to begin with, hidden in a wine? Gifted to Slughorn, no less? Who had intended to share it with Dumbledore? Why had Katie Bell been cursed? Why was this damned school was a timed-bomb? Where was Dumbledore, who apparently was the timer of the said-bomb? Whenever he was not around, all hell broke loose!_

_And when Harry was about…_

_Harry wiped his face at that thought but he couldn't help himself. Ever since he set foot in Hogwarts, there occurred scandalous dangers unlike the school had seen over half a century._

_It was because of him. He was destruction. It was always him. Why? He did not know._

_"Harry?"_

_It was a miracle how he heard being addressed in the storm of his thoughts. Glancing up, he caught sight of riotous brown curls and the form of his familiar girlfriend. No, friend. Best mate. His lover. No._

_Hermione. Just Hermione._

_"Harry!" she called again and rushed to him. Mimicking her panic, Harry shot to his feet and good thing he did, because Hermione had thrown herself over him._

_"I heard just now. I was so worried. Are you okay?" Hermione squeezed tightly while she questioned him. Before he could appreciate her firm hold, she broke away and reached for Ron. Grasping his forearm lightly, she add. "Is Ron okay? What happened?"_

_Sitting at the chair while Hermione hovered by his side, Harry noted Ginny had arrived as well. Greeting her too, Harry got to counting the events. It was reassuring to have Hermione by his side, her hand on his shoulder._

_Harry realised he didn't expect anything similar from Ginny. She was sat by the edge of the bed, focused on her brother._

_Dismissing the alien thought, Harry finished the story but Hermione hushed him before he could get to his speculations. She shook her head as if to say it was not the place._

_Harry conceded._

_The following two hours were a blur with Lavender Brown visiting Ron._

_Harry never minded the fellow Gryffindor girl. But the glare she shot to Hermione set his blood ablaze. What was her problem? Storming in and accusing Hermione of… of what?_

_Harry had focused back at Ron who was asleep, quite unhearing of Brown's mumblings. They all thought that until Ron whispered back Hermione's name._

_As Hermione was stood behind him, Harry did not have the chance to see her reaction but his was immediate. Shock, annoyance and jealousy._

_Creasing his brows, Harry chanced a glance at Hermione and realized she acted like she had not heard it._

_Good thing it was only him, Hermione and Lavender Brown as close as they were. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gone to have breakfast, and Ginny conversed with Madam Pomfrey across the room._

_Lavender Brown's fit of rage and immediate departure was questioned by Ginny but no one answered her. And thankfully, Ron never again muttered anything unconscious._

* * *

Hermione was aware it was Harry who entered through the Portrait hole. His strut and clothes were a give-away. He made no sound with his feet, but the short glance of his untucked shirt and messy hair were enough to identify the intruder. Hermione hadn't even lifted her eyes from her book.

"Hey," he mumbled and let his bag drop by the couch.

Hermione made a non-committal sound of affirmation, but she didn't engage in conversation. She and Harry had reconciled about the Half-Blood Prince book.

After the accident with Malfoy, he had cried in her arms and promised to never ever use it again. She had rushed to the Hospital Wing yet again that year when she heard the news, and Harry had stood there dumbstruck until he noticed her. That's when his wells broke.

That was last week. Ron didn't know of the crying bit of the story as she had helped Harry tidy up and brought him back to the dorms. Ron had been a huge help with consoling their friend because when Harry was next to Hermione, he ended up saying the mantra of his guilt and apologies.

The harm was done, but it had not been lethal.

Hermione hated that this notebook situation had to be resolved like this. Evil git or not, Malfoy didn't deserve being cut open in half. It was just that… this whole thing would have been prevented if Harry had listened to her.

Sighing at arrived to the same conclusion yet again, Hermione tried to let it go. Even if she was right, she couldn't always be right. And remind people that she was always right.

That was a social skill she had to repeat to herself.

Hermione barely noticed the couch dipping under Harry's weight, with how occupied she had been with thoughts, but she was indeed startled when Harry proceeded to lay in her lap.

Facing her, he removed his glasses to snuggle closer to her and it mildly tickled to have his nose in her jumper.

Not to mention it panicked her. "What are you doing? We are in the common room!"

Their friendship had found its tract back, so the past month there had been no cuddling, no touching, no sex whatsoever.

"I know. Geez, I was wearing my glasses when I walked in, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Glancing around the room and noting how there was no one besides them, Hermione exhaled and got back to her book. Would it hurt to have him lie in her lap?

Unseeing of the words in her page, Hermione wondered what would it be like to be in an actual relationship with Harry. Would they hold hands in the corridor, cuddle by an armchair in the common room, study together in the library?

"What are you reading?" he asked all of a sudden, reminding her that he was right there. His head on her thighs, his body curled towards her in the couch and quite fond of his place like Crookshanks.

"A book," Hermione replied, being a smart mouth and all.

Harry snorted and rose on his elbow. He acted to see the cover of the book, but he mumbled a sorry before putting his glasses back on. "I'll admit I can't read without my glasses, but you have to know that I'm not blind Hermione. And, I know what a book looks like."

Hermione giggled at his playful snark. "It's light-reading about theories of the warding charms. I found a couple useful ones but can't cast them yet. Figured, it would help."

"Did you, now?" Harry said and before Hermione registered the motion, Harry had reached for her stray curls and was now playing with them. "You're always one step ahead. I don't even know what to do with Slughorn. Occlumency lessons are out. You know the mess with Malfoy. And memories of Riddle are making me sick. It all comes down to that one bit of memory that only Slughorn knows the true version, and I can't get it from him."

In favor of attending to his concerns, Hermione would have ignored Harry's intimate proximity and even his loving play with her hair, but when his hand let go of her curls to palm her jaw, something clicked in Hermione.

"Harry, stop, just." She pushed him away and had the two of them sit across from each other. "You can't just... You can't-"

"What?" Harry said innocently and this for no reason angered Hermione even more. What was he thinking, seriously? Cupping her face, and drawing closer, then kissing her? Those were the steps that led from the first motion.

"We have to talk about this," Hermione gritted out. "You and me. This… this...relationship? Godric, I don't even know what it is. I thought it was over. I told you we were friends."

"We are friends," Harry replied immediately which elicited an angry shriek from Hermione. "Hermione, it's simple-"

Hermione wanted to laugh. _Simple?_ That was the last word to explain their situation. They fucked at convenience, were best mates, had ended the fucking part of their 'friendship' but now Harry wanted to do tender again. Kiss her, feel her and shag her. Without a proper relationship. Never talking about whether it was a relationship.

"We're good for each other. You're good for me," Harry desperately tried to explain. His emerald eyes sparkled with excitement over trying to explain it. "I can't think about surviving in this shit-hole of a life without you. Whenever I'm near you," At that he placed his hand back on her cheek as his thumb traced her lower lip. "I forget what a damned life I'm living. No Voldemort, no dead parents, no rumour of being barmy. It just works, Hermione."

Hermione reached for his hand and gently retracted it from her face. Holding it, she took a moment before meeting his eyes.

"That's alright, Harry. I'm happy to be by your side," Hermione hated seeing the hope in his eyes. "As a friend first."

That shattered all his delusions. Good.

"But I can't keep up with this... understanding, because I _don't_ understand it. Why is it alright to touch you, kiss you and make love to you but not be your… girlfriend? Because I know we're not. Were not. You were never my boyfriend even as we shagged every other day of the week. I don't want it to be serious- or official. I just want it to be more than _nothing_."

Harry avoided her gaze now. He rose to his feet, shaking his head. "Don't," he whispered.

"I want it to be something, _anything_ , but a disgusting stress-reliever or, or friends-with-benefits scenario. Because, Harry," At the sharp intake of breath, Harry turned to her. "Because I fancy you. Love you. More than a friend."

The still silence knocked the breath out of her, but she didn't feel the rush of air back until Harry faced away.

She knew the answer, but Hermione tried to explain one last time. "I can't be _with_ you if you're not willing to give _us_ a chance."

"No."

Hermione didn't know what she was expecting, but it was such a fast answer. Her eyes itched and ears rung as if she was slapped. Hard. Across the face.

"Then," she forced out, finally finding her voice. "We are friends. Only friends."


	5. Chapter 5

Days grew hopeless. Hermione didn’t remember any other time that she struggled to keep herself together. Stress of exams, danger of coming face to face with Death Eaters, anxiety for her parents, _nothing_ could affect her as much as the dead-end they faced right now.

Grimmauld Place had been compromised. Hogwarts was invaded. She and the boys were on the run.

Whenever she slept, Hermione couldn’t help but think what protected them was only her flimsy wards. She was a capable witch and had picked these specific spells from advanced _dark_ tomes, but being aware of her youth compared to her foes terrified her.

Because what was wards against Legilimency? What stopped Voldemort from reaching to Harry, wrecking his mind to bits and pieces, locating them and killing them swiftly? Was it her wards? Sure, she fooled the likes of lowly Snatchers, they passed them by every few days, but for the real enemy?

It was not enough. She never slept well, as a result.

The lack of sleep did funny things to a person. One became cranky, irritable and impatient. Needless chatter became acid to her ears. Exhaustion pulled on her bones, sometimes minced them, ached them or itched them. Coupled with starvation, physically none of the trio experienced _comfort_.

Hermione didn’t care about all those, though. She would always endure stress, hunger and thirst. Even the constant danger was easier to deal with…

...Compared to hopelessness.

They had acquired the locket. With a magnificent escape from the Ministry, just under Umbridge’s nose, the trio had safely secured the Horcrux.

Safely secured alright, because they had failed destroying it.

Wearing the damned thing in turns, Hermione, Ron and Harry sought for an answer. An answer obscured, hidden, or _long lost_ , more like it.

Hermione nearly accepted there was no way of annihilating it. The locket or any other Horcrux they might find.

Oh, they weren’t finding any other horcrux, though.

That was when Hermione tossed to the last invisible door in her mind. Many doors had closed in her face in search for a destruction method. They didn’t know how, Slughorn hadn’t known how, Dumbledore hadn’t left anything about it even if he _knew_ how. Then, came the next obstacle. Where were the rest of the horcruxes?

Same questioned had swirled in their minds, but each day what they had were dried food if they had any, miles to walk to switch camps and the list of names from Ron’s radio.

It was the first time Hermione had ever experienced being trapped in her own thoughts so gravely that it sickened her stomach, ached her head and constricted her airways.

There was no hope, not a single way that they saw as an option of coming out alive from this _adventure_.

Even Harry didn’t come up with the absurd risky ones.

Hermione knew she wouldn’t be a fair judge, but she saw that the worst among the three of them was Harry. He had lost much weight, his face was a dead give-away. Pale and gaunt, his sharp jaw protruded unnecessarily. More than a few times Hermione had seen him shedding his clothes, and she knew of his lanky frame, arms similar to sticks and torso from which she could count his ribs. It was a strong contrast to how she remembered him whenever she closed her eyes.

It was always long, muscular arms around her. She would circle her arms over his waist, and she would feel the slight soft belly there. He used to have fuller cheeks that Hermione took in her palms, squeezed and kissed, but now Hermione was afraid touching him would _hurt_ because of all the bones and angles.

Hermione winced at realising Harry stared at her. He must have caught up to her scrutinizing him. Hermione hadn’t intended to. It just… happened.

How could she not? Not seek him when Ron’s damned list recited at the background? Not yearn for him when she knew, _knew_ , that the slight touch from him would be the comfort she was so desperate for?

She had cried many times this summer. Before their quest to find the Horcruxes. During the wedding; when she was in Victor’s arms. Even when Ron asked to dance. Much before that, too. When Dumbledore died. When Harry’s world crumbled down. When they gave quits.

When Hermione said they would be friends. Friends only.

Hermione averted her eyes but the familiar sight of Ron caught her off guard as well. Radio in hand, he glared at her. When she met his eyes, he switched to glaring at Harry. Hermione didn’t know how long Ron had observed Hermione and Harry both, but she knew that she was giving away too much already.

“I’ll take watch,” Hermione mumbled and walked outside of the tent.

She sat down by a tree, covered in blankets and opened the Tales of Beedle the Bard. This would be the umpteenth time she read the stories, the Three Brothers especially.

As the sun set and Hermione felt numb with cold, she became aware how her thoughts drifted from the stories to the locket. It was with Ron right now. It was his turn.

Wearing a Horcrux was never an easy task, but sometimes Hermione doubted Ron handled it well. She tried to wear it longer at every chance. Mainly because she could understand why Ron was so upset all the time. Because his family was in grave danger, and unlike hers, he could not send them to safety.

This was a wizarding war. Like it or not, those of his blood were magical, and hence in the middle of the war. It had been easier to send her unaware Muggle parents away, in comparison.

Shaking her head, Hermione tried to solve once more how to destroy the horcruxes. There were no clues written in this dud story book. But Hermione and the boys knew something about the horcruxes. They were precious, to Voldemort, and could be items like heirlooms.

“The diary,” Hermione whispered. That was a horcrux. How had Harry killed it, now that she thought about it? Harry had said he had stabbed it. Regardless of how absurd it sounded, Hermione remembered Harry mentioning the fang of Basilisk. The diary had bled when the fang dug deep into it.

That didn’t make sense. Why would a fang be of any importance? It was sturdy, sure, but what else about it could accomplish what the trio failed for weeks. They had smashed the locket with rocks as strong as any fang when every spell had failed them.

That’s when snake venom sparked in Hermione’s mind. She rose from her seat, rushed inside for her books and found the one for reference.

“Harry! Come here, I think I know how we could-- Godric, why didn’t I think about it-”

It was the Gryffindor Sword. It could solve their problems. Hearing the news, Harry circled around the table and hugged Hermione so tightly that all breath left Hermione in an instant. For every reason.

They had never been close ever since that talk. Harry had been stubborn and angry around her, she silent and resigned. Their interactions would be all business, or Hermione would be found scolding Harry because sometimes Harry indeed pushed her with his absurd reactions.

Even with Ron lightening the mood, somehow Hermione never received the best-friend treatment from Harry.

But right now? Hugging him like she remembered, Hermione couldn’t be more happier. Everything was going to be alright. They would survive.

Suddenly darkness surrounded them.

“Of course, you don’t need me,” came Ron’s voice and consequently, the Deluminator freed the meager light back. “Look at the two of you. The perfect couple. Why need me, right?”

Hermione thought to let go of Harry but when he didn’t let her go at first, she was perplexed. He collected his arms without delaying it, but murmured underneath his breath, “Fuck.”

“Why don’t you tell me directly, huh, _mate_?” Ron’s mockery was aimed at Harry. “You’ve been fucking my girlfriend, right?”

“I’m not your girlfriend--”

Ron ignored her. “You’re obsessed with her, you know! You don’t do anything but watch her, knowing that she loves me! I love her back. And maybe, Harry, if you weren’t so jealous--”

“SHUT UP, RON!”

“I WON’T!” Ron screamed. “Here, you two whisper the solution: the sword of Gryffindor. But none of you think of telling _poor Ronald_.”

His eyes found Hermione’s, and she subconsciously took a step back at his hatred. He had mimicked her use of his full name, too. “You let him fuck you, right? You forgot all about me, just like that. Or has it always been him? While you whined for hours about Lavender… Tell me, Hermione, TELL ME!”

His roar only brought tears to Hermione’s eyes. Because she was angry. So damn angry at Ron, at Harry, at herself! What was this mess? She had done nothing to deserve this!

“OR DON’T TELL ME!” Ron shouted this time. “I shouldn’t intervene- you two do fine without me, so maybe I AM the useless idiot of the group.”

“This is not about you, Ron.” Harry’s interruption pained Hermione, because she knew what he was going to say. “It isn’t about Hermione. It is about _me._ As always, _I_ have to save the world; no one else. Maybe you could stop being selfish for _one_ moment, hush that fucking radio, and help _me_ save the world. Because like it or not, this war will continue if _I_ don't finish it. Not others, not Hermione, not you; _me_.”

“It is about you,” came Ron’s rapsy voice. He was calmer, but his rage was only dormant. He looked as if he could kill. “Always about Harry Potter.”

“Surprised, are you?” Harry hissed. “Then maybe, you can shut up now.”

“Guys,” Hermione cut in, wanting to smoothe this mess. Unfortunately that was when Ron’s radio decided to recite names.

“Shut that, too,” Harry said, turning to head for his bed.

“I won’t,” Ron gritted out. “I have to listen to it.”

“I don’t,” Harry shot. “Why would you need to listen to a list of people who are all _dead_? All because we couldn’t save them?”

“You wouldn’t understand. How can you? You have nothing to lose,” Ron addressed to Hermione too. “You, too.”

“Nothing to lose?” Harry asked. “Don’t be selfish--”

“SELFISH? I fear for my _family_. But how can you understand that? Your parents are dead!”

“GET OUT!”

Hermione barely registered what happened after that. It was all screams and punches. When she finally separated Harry and Ron, the latter grabbed his rucksack and headed to the exit of their tent.

“I’m leaving,” Ron declared.

“Let’s just sit down-- Ron give me the locket-- okay, let’s sit down _now_ , and we can--”

Throwing the locket in her palm forcefully, Ron shook his head. “No, I won’t stay where I’m not wanted, or needed.”

Her heart breaking to pieces, Hermione turned to Harry, hoping that he would be convincing Ron.

Harry didn’t look at either of them.

“Coming, Mione?” asked Ron.

When Harry rose his gaze to meet with Hermione’s, she faced back to Ron. She couldn’t believe _she_ had to choose.

It didn’t need much thinking. Shutting her eyes, she whispered, “No.”

Ron smiled. The most pained smile Hermione later saw. Then he left.


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

 

It was physically painful to be away from her.

Life on the hunt was excruciating enough but apparently, Harry had to endure more. It wasn't fair that she continued as nothing happened, but continue she did. Harry was awed sometimes how Hermione acted out the days without doing anything more than to function. And while she did that, Harry shouldn't have expected her to come to his arms. But after Ron left, a small part of Harry just desperately wished she would come to him.

Actually, _he_ was the one who wanted to finally be wrapped around a warm embrace.

Harry sighed, his breath making a visible cloud in the cold of February. He was outside, taking the watch. While Hermione was inside the tent, a soft light giving away her research, Harry was stuck here looking at nothing and thinking.

He never read as Hermione did on her watch. Harry never liked to read, anyway. Not anywhere close to how much Hermione adored the written word.

Instead, Harry gazed at the darkness of the forest. He looked out for small animals, in fact some days counted how many wild animals passed by their camp. When the weather was cold and they never received any visitors, he would count the leaves of trees.

He used to eavesdrop on Ron's radio in such boring watches, but now even that was absent. Harry had the rustling of leaves and howls of wolves to listen to.

It scared him to listen to wilderness sometimes. He and Hermione were alone out here, and regardless of how good they were with their wands, there crept up a feeling back at his neck that somehow the mother-nature would kill them in their sleep. Never mind the wards and all that.

One of these days, those Snatchers coming too close to their camp would do the business of killing them instead of nature, but Harry prayed everyday to let the universe know he would much rather die of starvation.

It ashamed to admit to that sinful thought, but some days the notion of just… just stopping to eat and stopping to _fight_ overwhelmed him.

Even those days were not as awful as how it was now with Hermione. She had her nose buried in a book, the one Dumbledore had left her, and if she was not reading she was strengthening the wards.

Harry watched whenever she cast spells. Not only because she was more interesting than the rather monotone wilderness -much more interesting-, but also because he couldn't help it when his eyes were drawn to her.

There was this feeling whenever he looked for her upon entering inside the tent to switch watches. His increased heartbeat would vibrate his chest. The shudder climbing up his spine would be unrelated to the cold from outside and the flush to his face would not be about his recent step into the warmth.

Since her confession, Harry had been an expert at playing as if nothing had happened. He could behave just as her, and pretend nothing had happened. Not the confession, not the kisses, not the passion.

Harry had done that until the day of the Weasley wedding. That day when he asked Hermione to dance, and she evaded him and ended up dancing with another, Harry started to notice how she made it her mission to be away from him.

Because of Dumbledore's death, Harry had not had the time to notice it. Hell, he had been a mess even before that.

Regardless, this summer before their hunt, Harry should have paid more attention to Hermione. Even if he had been busy thwarting Ginny's advances, on top of everything, Harry should have been more mature than to get angry at Hermione at the sight of her and proceed to act as ignorant as her.

It took for their friend group of three to be alone for Harry to fully understand the situation after that initial wake-up call in the wedding.

It wasn't simply both of them moving on with their friendship -because from outside it must have looked like that (Ron had said the contrary, but still)- but the fact was that their friendship had crumbled.

It shouldn't have been this way.

Harry had just meant to… well, he hadn't thought with a straight head the first time he kissed Hermione. It had happened and conveniently continued. Whatever that could have been with Ginny, Harry had never yearned for, because Hermione gave even more than he could have imagined.

He had loved it. It had been simply amazing.

It had never occurred to him that Hermione could love him that way. For _real._ It had never occurred to him that, on hindsight, Harry's own feelings essentially ran deeper than he thought they did.

What Hermione now wanted and what Harry concluded this would indicate, was _commitment_. One thing Harry had prominently thought (only a slight idiot part of him was smart enough to know better) was that Hermione had arrived to the same understanding that their lives were too unpredictable for such a grave mistake.

Nobody could blame him when Voldemort was after his head. He could not have a relationship when he tried escaping from death.

Harry only now realised why their understanding was so indispensable for him, though.

Sure, he had lost his virginity to Cho and their intimacy was functionally the same as what Hermione and he did. It was sex. It was feeling better.

But with Hermione, Harry felt _loved_.

Such a foreign feeling considering his childhood. It was a different love compared to being like a son to the Weasley family. Not the feeling when Ron welcomed him with a big smile or Mrs. Weasley fussed over him during dinner.

Scratching the back of his head, Harry snorted at what he was thinking. Of course, he felt loved! Because Hermione had loved him.

When she circled his neck and responded to his kiss, she indeed melted against him. When he kissed the crook of her neck, she affectionately grabbed his hair and caressed his back. Every touch, every breath, every kiss meant more when it came from her.

And he loved it. He loved being loved. He loved that Hermione loved him. He loved _her._

He loved that she gently woke him from a short nap on top of his parchment after an exhausting Quidditch practice. He loved how she bumped her shoulder to him while she laughed, checking to see whether he joined to her happiness. He loved how she hopelessly smiled and apologized whenever he replied to one of her endless questions muttered out loud for no one in particular. With a habit like that, it was a wonder how his girl has never been kicked out of her sanctuary: the library.

Wait- _his_ girl?

Harry must have spaced out because when that alarming thought woke him up, the mouth of the tent was open and Hermione had left.

It was like this nowadays. She silently disappeared whenever around him. She just… She hated him, didn't she?

"Fuck," he muttered and angrily sat down at the bunker. This was ridiculous. They were friends- should be friends. They had a world to save, too. They could die tomorrow and here Harry was thinking-

_Hermione could die_ , the thought hit him hard.

The sudden fear of death, Hermione's death, was so powerful that none the dafter could have thought of making a Horcrux _for_ her would solve the problem, that this was a good idea.

None but him.

"Shite, no, no, no." Tom Riddle had gone a similar path, albeit more egotistical, but it was concerning for the notion to cross Harry's mind. No. Simply no.

"Are you alright?" came a voice he had long forgotten.

Harry rose his eyes to meet with Hermione. "I- I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, doubtful. Harry blinked and quickly checked his body as if he would find a limb detached or something. _Crazy._

"You didn't hear me," Hermione continued.

"No. Yes." He took a deep breath and resigned. "I mean, I didn't hear you." Harry fixed his glasses at the same time Hermione sighed.

Realizing Hermione's stretched hand, Harry saw she offered the Locket to him. "It's your turn to wear it."

"Umm, yeah, sure." A thought came to Harry. "Did you come in just now?"

Confused, Hermione decided to shrug. "Just a moment ago."

Taking the Locket from her, Harry decided it was the Locket whispering about that last insane idea of making a Horcrux. Harry was nothing like Riddle. He refused to be.

Harry didn't want to wear the damn thing -a part of Riddle's soul- with how his mind circled around Hermione, but wear he did.

It was only the two of them to share the burden now.

"I'm outside," Hermione said to which Harry nodded. Clasping the Locket, Harry watched her leave as he was alone with his thoughts now. And the Horcrux. _Great_.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy late-New Year!
> 
> I pray this year will bring happiness, health and whatever that you most desire! I'm shite at schedules but hope this update was to your liking ;D Curious for your thoughts!
> 
> Take care
> 
> Ydream08

_She loves Ron_ , whispered a treacherous voice in Harry's head. _She cried in fourth year because Ron didn't ask her to the ball. The sight of Ron made her blush, countless times. Your kisses meant nothing to her- nothing but a distraction when she couldn't reach Ron. She imagined him when she kissed you. Even if you can give her a family like Ron can, she will still choose him._

Harry clutched at the locket, warring within him whether to actually rip it from his neck and toss it across the tent. Since Ron has left and Hermione's deliberate dismissal of him never changed, his insecurities the horcrux loved to exploit had changed from being an orphan to his worry that he would never become a family with the one he loved. _Hermione Jean Potter_. That was the name of his dreams.

_Hermione Granger has always been in love with Ron Weasley._

Shit- the scream that tore through his lungs was not as powerful as his swing. The wretched locket wouldn't break he knew. Even with the shattering thud it clashed with the mirror. Why had they a mirror in the tent anyway?

"Harry, I heard something- is everything alright?" Hermione appeared at the entrance. She had scrunched her face like she always did when in confusion and assessment both. Harry forced a deep exhalation.

"It's nothing," he started. For a moment he mistook her worry to disbelief. Of course Hermione was worried about him. It was not everyday that he thrashed a mirror and threw something out of spite. "Sorry. It just happened."

"Harry?"

Harry couldn't answer the way she would want. Would she want to hear that he was desperately in love with her still? That he wanted to have her, kiss her, love her even more than he used to? Do it openly? The fool that he was now, he would risk everything to hold her hand even.

That, he shouldn't feel. Fuck this, but Harry had withdrawn from Ginny in the first place because he had seen this coming. There was war. He would die, most probably. What could Harry possibly promise to Hermione?

Nothing.

So, Harry chose the familiar frustration all of them held close to their heart. "I hate doing nothing. We don't have the sword, we don't know any other Horcruxes let alone _locating_ them... It's only us now."

"I know," she whispered to which Harry hushed in an instant. He averted his eyes and sat back to his bunker.

"Hermione, I…" He had an idea, truth be told. "I thought...maybe we can go the Godric's Hollow? My parents' house?"

He _felt_ her objection. "It's where everything's started, you know. There has to be something there. Hermione, I'm sure it will help us."

Harry had done his best to ignore her while she drew herself closer, but he could not hide his shock when she sat next to him, knees touching.

"Are you sure, Harry?" she asked, anxiety wretched all over her face. Her lips trembled, "He knows you'll go there- it can be a trap."

It was hard to concentrate when Hermione was this close to him. She took his hand to squeeze it, likely aware his attention was elsewhere. Specifically, at her pretty face, legs close to his and overall warmth of her proximity. "Are you sure, Harry?"

It felt right to reply with capturing her lips. As she protested against his lips, Harry persisted for a second chance. He cupped her cheek and didn't let go.

Harry knew Hermione caved in when he licked her lower lip for entrance. After that, it was her hands clutching his hair, her tongue dominating his, her legs that were swung at the sides of his hips.

While she straddled him, Harry contently caressed her sides till his hands found her bottom to steady her. It was a vain idea, as Hermione pushed him further as she grinded against him, eventually causing him to fall back to the bunker.

Her curls falling all around his face, Harry felt her warm breath on his face as they gave a break. "I didn't mean- Harry, what is this?"

Harry rose to meet her lips and her wet tongue was so sweet against his that he didn't care. Both knew Godric's Hollow was a trap. Both knew they were good as dead. Both knew that this night could - _would_ \- be their last.

Harry could promise Hermione the rest of his life.

Regardless of how short of a promise that would be, regardless of how much his death would make Hermione cry, in that moment Harry James Potter chose to be selfish.

"Have me if you still want me," Harry whispered to her lips. "Please, Hermione, all I want is you."

That won him the most passionate kiss he has ever experienced. His skin was set afire as her wandering hands dipped inside his jumper, trailed the lines of his abdomen, teased the hair that grew thicker by the destination of…

Harry hissed at her cold hand that suddenly wrapped around his cock. Outside must have been freezing, but that thought only urged him to make Hermione hot till she melted against him.

With that thought in mind, he retracted her hand after a few strokes and helped Hermione out of her own jumper.

Harry had half-risen on the bunker so that he too shed his top, but next when he hugged Hermione completely to mold her to his hard chest, he flipped them over.

Now, above her, Harry dove to the crook of her neck as he licked her warm skin and tasted her with small kisses. His hands were free to unbuckle Hermione's trousers, so he did exactly that.

"Harry, thissss…" Hermione's hiss made him shudder in equal measure to her own reflex because his constant kisses that went down and down and down till his hot breath was now on her knickers.

"Yes, you'll- oh, yes, please, Harry," Hermione made no sense but Harry was content at hearing her. She was already wet for him and Harry didn't know what else he would have wanted.

Shit, she was so wet that he could make out her swollen clit.

And in a daring move, Harry licked her knickers from bottom to up and captured the swollen bud through the fabric. It had no taste whatsoever, just a bit salty if he must, but the sharp gasp from Hermione meant all the more for him.

"So wet for me," Harry commented as he moved away the soaked fabric to smell her arousal. This time Harry licked her exposed flesh. "I love it when you want me so much."

Honestly, his engorged cock was partially out of his pants with how the button was already undone, and his member throbbed painfully. He forced not to mind the confining placement of his trousers because Harry was set to make Hermione cum in his mouth.

He entered her first with a single digit, but as impatient as he was, it turned into two, and then Harry was pumping his fingers in rhythm as he sucked at her clit. Switching his tongue for his thumb, Harry rubbed her while he put slobbery kisses to her lower abdomen and thighs, anywhere he could reach.

Hermione's cries and encouragements were honey to his ears, as well as her hands holding him to her crotch. Those insistent hands were the reason he was back to her sex and now his tongue dipped and explored the inside instead of his fingers. Well, he could tease her arse hole with those free fingers now.

"Harry!" she shouted when she came to his mouth. Harry made a show of licking her juices that spread to the sides of his mouth, and it aroused him that Hermione watched him in fascination.

Not missing a beat, as Hermione laid in the bliss of her orgasm, Harry did a quick work of getting rid of his trousers and boxers. This was better, he could fuck her properly.

Bringing Hermione's hips towards him, Harry rubbed his erection to her parted lower lips, making his member slick.

"Hermione," he dipped to get a kiss from her. It was tingling to feel her tongue playfully dance with his while she contently wrapped her arms around him. "Hermione, love, I want to be inside of you?"

Harry winced at how awkward that question sounded but he didn't ponder over it as, both breathless, Hermione kissed him again. "I'll have you, Harry Potter. So, yes, please. Don't make me wait."

With that he thrusted into her, her tight walls accommodating him and wrapping him like a glove. It felt heaven to be inside her. It felt even better when he _moved_.

It was the noise of their skin slapping against each other and their combined grunts, moans and voices that followed the pace of their love making that filled his ears. Harry couldn't remember any other time that he was more aroused.

His cock buried in her, her legs and arms wrapped around his body and her nipples brushing against his chest… Oh, Harry would make sure he remembered this.

If tomorrow morning came and Hermione decided to ignore him again, or much later when he died and Hermione cursed him for leaving her, Harry would remember back to this very moment.

Balls clenching, Harry came into Hermione who had only moments ago orgasmed. Just to make sure Hermione was at the same page with him, Harry muttered to her neck upon sprawling all over her, "Don't forget this, Mrs. Potter."


	8. Chapter 8

_That_ had slipped. Right?

* * *

It was cold and silent in the Godric's Hollow. As Harry was stood by his parents' graves, Hermione looked out for the two of them. They were alone though. Odd, considering she expected to be attacked.

The hunt has made her paranoid.

She moved on from the Peverell grave. Upon hearing Harry's sniff, Hermione went next to him. A glance at his face gave away how miserable he was.

Hermione conjured flowers to pay their respects to the Potter family grave, and held onto Harry's arm for support, resting her head by his shoulder.

He was not alone, Hermione wanted to show. She was here for him.

* * *

_I miss you both. I always have… I'm sorry. Sorry for all that happened. Sirius has died, you know._

_Doesn't matter. Look out for me, yeah? I want to see you all but not yet… not when I have her._

_Mum, Dad, meet Hermione Granger. She- well, I love her. And she loves me. And for now, that's all that matters._

* * *

Oh God-

She poured Dittany over his wound, but for the love of Merlin, please let it help with a snake's venom!

"Harry," Hermione cried as he shook. They were safe at least, she had Disapparated away.

* * *

It was worse than when he had learned his broomstick splattered into pieces back in third year.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I really am." Hermione pleaded. "We can share mine."

"It's not the same, Hermione. I can't believe my fucking wand split into two."

The tension in his shoulders never left for the remaining day. Hermione had to admit, the two of them could no longer bear any bad news.

As nothing got better, it seemed to matter more that they held each other at nights. Some nights, it felt so right and perfect to have each other that neither Harry nor Hermione minded the danger of their situation. Hermione held him. Kissed him. Made love to him.

He shouted her name. Cried her name. Whispered her name.

Then it was silence. Only the beats of their hearts. Warm and alive.

* * *

Ron was back.

* * *

"I'm happy for you," mumbled Ron, not so silent as to avoid from Hermione hearing it. "For the two of you. I- I guess, I missed my chance."

Hermione rose from where she read -pretended to read- the Tales of Beedle the Bard. Not even bothering to mark where she left it, Hermione stretched her legs and opted to wander around. She didn't particularly want to overhear whatever Ronald was going to say. It had been inevitable to disclose their relationship to him. Harry refused to sleep anywhere else than next to her.

It had saddened to hear Ron's story of how the Deluminator brought him to them. His affection had not been what Hermione desired, not for the past year at least.

She had thought it had been clear even if her relationship with Harry had never been public in any degree.

Hermione didn't care for Ron in that way anymore. To _know_ that he did, care for her deeply at that, broke her heart.

At least, he and Harry were alright. Harry wasn't the kind of person who would reply ' _You never had a chance with her to begin with,'_ just out of spite at Ron's previous statement of, ' _I missed my chance'_.

Hermione would have felt a cruel satisfaction on that kind of reply, but Harry was a sweetheart and one of the reasons Hermione loved him so much was that he valued his friendships and had a way of maintaining that level of sincere conversation. When he was feeling like it anyway.

Ron was, for the both of them, a dear friend none wanted to end things. They had been through too much to part ways that easily because every obstacle had strengthened their relationship.

The simplest example would be from first year. Hermione remembered well the comment of her friend back then that had made her cry in the bathroom that was eventually visited by the troll. Sure, the two bickered afterwards and _sometimes_ name called (especially in third year) but Hermione would never forget how Ron stood up for Malfoy and Snape both for calling her a know-it-all.

Ron has grown. And that singular memory was from _years_ back.

All of them changed and grew as the years passed, and it showed promise that Hermione knew it was for the better.

Right now, Ron was struggling because he had ended up being discarded. Hermione had chosen Harry instead of him. All his life, Ron had always been chosen last if at all. He was rarely prefered, actually. A child of seven, he was loved but not as the best or the first or the most.

Becoming friends with Harry despite this inner conflict had presented problems especially in fourth year. Till then it had always been Harry. But that year when the Goblet chose Harry Potter, Ron had lost it, Hermione remembered. Their friendship had been strained.

Now? Ron tried to be supportive. Some days, heck some _hours_ of a single day, when he couldn't manage (Hermione could see it in his broken but furious eyes) he took time for himself and conversed later with the two of them about random things.

Ron was trying to make work of his frustration without misdirecting it to them. And for that, Harry was more open and understanding with him.

"Anyway, like I said, I'm happy. It's the three of us again. When I was away, it felt awful. Right now I know we can do anything, you know." Hermione had not walked out of the ear shot. The two males sat outside the tent by the fire. "All we need is the plan. I was thinking…"

"Shhh," Hermione hissed just as Ron was about to probably mention the rumors he heard on his days alone. She flicked her wand and the fire extinguished, and for better measure Hermione cast a silencing charm over the other two in case they shouted out what was wrong.

It was the Snatchers. Lately, they have been wandering close to their camp. _We should move_.

When the lackeys of Voldemort disappeared, Hermione walked back to Harry and Ron.

"You are still reading that book?" Ron asked as he gently took it.

Hermione didn't mind, "We should go. I don't know why but they have been frequenting, the Snatchers."

Hermione glanced around, and then turned back to the males to find Harry and Ron scrutinizing a page of Hermione's book.

"Hermione, what's this?" asked Harry showing the triangle drawing. Hermione had seen it countless times. It was at best a meaningless doodle. At worst key to everything. Because Hermione had no idea what it _meant._

"It looks familiar, you know," Ron mumbled, but it was Harry to whom the glint of recognition dawned.

"I saw this! Well, not like… Luna's dad had a _necklace_ of it. I saw it back at Bill's wedding. I'm hundred percent sure."

* * *

"That treacherous little bleeder! Can't we trust anyone these days?" complained Ron the moment they were Apparated back at the woods. Visit with Xenophilius Lovegood had not turned out the way they had planned.

Hermione was about to put up warding but they were already surrounded. The Snatchers. The same ones that had circled around their camp all those weeks.

For Merlin's sake, why hadn't she taken them elsewhere!

* * *

**Hello!**

**THANK YOU so much for the amazing response. I'm happy that you're all enjoying this story. I am meaning to keep it short, at most 12 chapters. So heads up for that. Longer chapters for later in the war and after it, of course. Hope you'll be around!**

**Note: The underlined is a direct quote from the movie Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows.**

**-Ydream08**


	9. Chapter 9

_"It's a lie! Harry and Hermione would never-"_

_Harry knew it wasn't the best time to tell Ron that he and Hermione were a couple very much like the Horcrux depicted, minus the conceited and rubbish way the Horcrux Harry and Hermione treated Ron, but Harry felt torn about talking._

_They were in the middle of putting the Gryffindor Sword through the damn Locket._

_When Ron lodged the sword into the heirloom, its glass case shattered and the dark magic exploded on them. Harry hit the ground, and felt the sticky and sinister residue of Tom Riddle's soul passing through them._

_"Disgusting," Ron muttered, picking himself up. He went to retrieve the sword. The Locket came with it, simply skewed. Ron eyed the Locket in distaste. "Bloody disgusting."_

_Harry got to him and patted his back. "One down," he said._

_Ron nodded, finally smiling. "One down."_

_There was a silence as they picked a pace to go back to the camp. Ron didn't need to point out what an arse he had been. Harry hadn't been above him._

_"I'm sorry," Harry wanted to say even though both were at fault, but Ron beat him to it._

_"I'm sorry."_

_Harry echoed the sentiment and the duo smiled._

_"I don't know what got into me, Harry. I really don't. I just wish-"_

_"No, Ron. It's fine. You came. If it weren't for you-"_

_"No, no, listen Harry. It was really hard on my own. I can't imagine how it must have been for you. And you should see how the rest of the world survives. It is up to you to fix this, and I want to help anyway I can. I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have left, you know… I mean, I just spouted nonsense that you and Hermione... I mean, you'd never... because you know I lo-"_

_Harry felt the fire roar in his belly and his ears rung with anger. "We're together."_

_This silence was awkward._

_Ron met with his gaze but whatever he saw there, Harry understood, made Ron think again._

_"I shouldn't be surprised."_

_Harry cursed. "It doesn't mean… Look, Ron, I'm not sorry. I love Hermione. I'm_ **in love** _with Hermione. Have been for sometime. But it's...it's not like the way the Horcrux showed you… we don't think those things about you..."_

_"That's embarrassing," Ron informed. His deprecating laughter saddened Harry. "That must have looked pathetic to you."_

_"I don't think of you like that, Ron. Nor does Hermione. We would never- you are our friend, Ron. Best friend. My_ **first** _friend."_

_Ron sincerely grinned at that. "I am, ain't I?"_

_"Yes, you are. You always had my back, as I had yours. Just like you did a moment ago."_

_"Yeah," Ron agreed. He patted Harry's back and smiled. "Yeah, we're mates. And… and I'm happy for you, if that's what you want. The two of you want. I mean, you are both my friends, obviously."_

_"Thank you for making that clear," Harry shot with a smile._

_Ron returned it. "Well, don't mention the Horcrux to Hermione, then. I want to remain friends without screwing up anything. Before the world ends, that is."_

_Harry snickered, "Good idea."_

* * *

"Hermione? Hermione, can you hear me? Hermione!" Harry was on his knees, Hermione in his arms. He shook her, desperately wishing she would open her eyes. Harry wanted to make sure she was fine- the word sounded ridiculous even in his mind knowing his beloved had endured hours of torture from the woman who had also killed his godfather.

They had made it out alive from the skirmish in the Malfoy Manor. His knees digging to sand and a salty breeze from the sea hitting his face, Harry knew they were free. It was just that- Hermione _had_ to open her eyes. Her face tear-stricken and bruised, her lips cut and no colour to her skin, she didn't look like she has simply fainted.

_Oh, God_ , Harry panicked. _She can't be dead._ All their efforts would mean nothing if he lost her. He _can't_ lose her. World be damned, Harry couldn't even bare the thought of not having her by his side. He whispered, caressing her cheek, "Hermione, _please_." It should have been him. Him who should have been brought to attention. Crucio'ed. Killed. _He should have died first, then any harm to come to Hermione._

"Harry! She's fine, but-" he heard Ron shout but Harry didn't respond till Ron grabbed him by the shoulder.

That's when Harry saw Dobby, barely standing, long fingers clutching at something by his abdomen…

"No," Harry gasped. _Not Dobby!_ But his eyes saw correct: there was a knife -the dagger Bellatrix LeStrange had used to threaten Hermione's life- lodged to the stomach of the small house elf.

Harry glanced back to Hermione, but turned again to meet with Dobby's pleading eyes. The squeaky voice of Harry's loyal friend said, "Harry Potter."

Harry quickly lowered Hermione down and rushed to Dobby. The house elf smiled, but Harry couldn't find it in himself to reciprocate. There was so much blood.

"Ron, take Hermione's beaded bag. There has to be Dittany!" Harry ordered. From his peripheral vision he was aware Ron didn't move.

"Ron, NOW!" he shouted to his friend while Dobby crumbled to his embrace. "It is going to be fine, Dobby. I'm here. I'll help you- like you helped us." Harry covered Dobby's hand where it rested near the knife. The other had fallen to the sandy ground. "I can't thank you enough for saving us. Dobby, hang in there. Please."

The longer Harry waited for Dittany to come, the slower and weaker came Dobby's breath. He hardly heard the ghost of a whisper, "Harry Potter."

Harry turned back to Ron, and saw him shake his head: There was no Dittany.

"Take Hermione inside," Harry called to Ron. Heaving because of the burning in his chest, Harry forced himself to look back at the tiny elf who weighted nothing in his arms. Harry blinked against crying but the motion freed tears nonetheless.

Watching the single drop of tear hit Dobby's cheek and travel along, Harry bit his trembling lips. The elf's big hazel eyes now reflected the sky and nothing else.

* * *

"Hey," he whispered as her eyes fluttered open in a daze.

They were in the Shell Cottage. Hermione was recovering. Harry would have argued the contrary if not for the colour coming back to her face and her wounds healing over time. This was the first time she had opened her eyes, let alone saying anything.

"Hey," she whispered in difficulty.

Harry smiled. Hearing her voice made him giddy. And warm. And full of life.

"You're okay, safe and getting better." Harry realized he wasn't explaining enough. He should say where they were, what happened with everyone else, and what had happened to her to begin with. But he couldn't get himself to explain those.

She was beautiful. Her hair messed up and cushioning her better than the pillow, her lips curled in the slightest of smiles, the light bathing her just so that she became the center of his world. Not that she wasn't without the evening sun.

She was his everything. She was his Hermione. So beautiful. So _her_.

"I love you," he stated. Instead of everything else, he said the simplest. "I thought I lost you."

Harry would have been mortified to make Hermione cry, she _was_ crying, few drops trickling down her cheeks but he was no different.

Removing his glasses, Harry wiped away his tears. Hiccups would come, maybe he would heave.

Looking at her now, though, there was a smile on his face while he cried. "I thought I _lost_ you!"

Thank Merlin that he had been wrong. These were happy tears, exactly for that reason. He hadn't lost her.

Hermione snorted. She said something, Harry hardly heard. Then she repeated again. "Marauder's map."

Harry snorted too, then laughed, understanding the joke. "Unbelievable."

Hermione cracked a smile. "I try to be."

"That was a Ron-joke, you know. And he picked that up from McGonagall, at our first year."

It all sounded so far away, and the thought must have occured to the both of them as the joyous atmosphere dissipated in the blink of an eye.

"How's Ron?" Hermione asked, and Harry knew then that everything would be alright.

"Let me get him, don't go anywhere," he said with a snicker.

He didn't miss the way she rolled her eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

"Hermione, I need to do this. I need to do this _alone_."

He was insane. Bloody _insane_. Why was she always had to be the one with brains in this group?

"Harry, do you hear what you're saying?" she shrieked, grabbing a hold of his arm. She would not let go. He would not go to that forest.

Who did Voldemort think he was, anyway? Was he the bloody Queen of England for Godric's sake? Why should Harry go to his feet, lie down to take the blow no less?

Ron hesitantly stepped closer to them. One hand raised to somewhat calm Hermione, he faced Harry. "Mate, 'Mione is right. It is a bloody trap!"

Hermione agreed to Ron. The cup was destroyed, only Nagini was left to get to Voldemort. There was no need for heroic sacrifice-

"Harry, getting yourself killed is not the answer. And that's exactly what's going to happen if you go by yourself. Let me-"

"NO!" Harry objected. "You're not going anywhere with me. You'll stay with Ron and the Weasleys. I will finish this. And if I can't-"

She shoved him. "You," she shoved again. "Stupid," punching felt better. "Egotistical…"

Oh, Merlin, she was crying. Everyone was dead. They knew the state of the Great Hall, bodies lined up neatly. Snape's death was perhaps the most recent they knew of, but Hermione doubted it would be the last.

She just didn't want Harry to be among them.

"You either come with me inside while we discuss this with the Order," Hermione hiccuped; it was damn hard to hush her crying. Not to mention, she honestly had no idea to what to threaten Harry with. He was an effing sacrificial saint in the first place. "That's it. No other option."

Harry looked pained. Her declaration didn't even slightly alter his mind, she was sure, or even made him doubt. Hermione knew that determination.

 _This_ was the reason he never opened up to Ginny, too. His fate, in his tiny stupid head, was supposedly sealed to death.

Hermione was an idiot.

"Harry, c'mon," Ron nudged him, and reluctantly, and surprisingly, Harry joined them inside.

His hollow footsteps among theirs didn't ease Hermione's turmoil. She just knew that Harry would look out for the best time to slip away on his own. The utter dunderhead would think that that way he would cause the least pain. She had to have her eyes open.

* * *

At first chance he had escaped to view Snape's tears in the pensieve. Harry couldn't believe what he saw. Everything made sense now: Snape's involvement with the Order and especially Dumbledore's blind trust for the half-blood wizard.

The truth of Harry's survival, though, was by far the most important revelation.

Back when Harry gave in to both Hermione and Ron's insistence that he stay, there had been a small part of him that agreed with them.

But now?

He had to go. Taking out his Invisibility Cloak, Harry made his way to the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

It was Ron who held her from collapsing. _Harry was dead?_

Draco crossed the yard. Neville limped forward. Death Eaters laughed.

Something had snapped in her, Hermione knew. She didn't know what to do. What was next?

Would she be able to continue as valiantly as Neville described? Or would she surrender and accept the Avada that would surely find her chest. _Her heart was dead anyway_.

There needn't be an answer to give as Harry Potter rose to his feet, _miraculously alive,_ and aimed a spell at Nagini.

Hermione gave up. She failed each time when she tried to decipher Harry Potter anyway, the Boy-who-thankfully-didn't-die.

Their plan was on. Hope remained. They would fight.

* * *

Everything felt so… distant.

Hermione didn't know how she could stop thinking, but ever since her feelings drained away, thinking was all she could do.

She thought back to their first kiss. She thought how her friendly hug gave pass to Harry's openly affection. She thought, at that moment, when she pulled away to shriek his name, she felt an immense pleasure upon his following kiss.

She thought back to how she climbed onto his lap.

Then, Hermione proceeded to think their first time in the library. It occurred to her now how their conversation was picked up after the sex was over. It was Harry simply saying, "Glad I found you."

Hermione fast forwarded to every encounter with Harry after that. Their relationship… well, she considered it as that after the 'Mrs. Potter' slip, but recalling the day of the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione just knew that she had to have some peace for herself.

Yes, the more she thought back to it, the clearer it became that the two of them had dimmed each other's worries, cured their wounds and amended their broken feelings. Hermione had needed that. Harry had needed that.

Was that enough, though? Really enough?

When he walked out to that forest without a word to her, Hermione wondered if she ever was a concern for Harry. _He_ was always in her mind! Constantly. While grieving for their friends even, Hermione worried about Harry still.

She never saw the same worry in his eyes. He had become cold. Lifeless. Silent.

This was hard for the both of them, but Hermione... well, she couldn't fit neither her feelings nor her logic for their interactions.

Even Ron had noticed it.

"You and Harry are odd. I've never seen the two of you so apart. Well, maybe whenever the two of us used to fight, Harry did his best to get away. But it's not the same, you know. Is everything alright? With you two?" Hermione was so embarrassed to turn into a mess of tears in front of Ron, but it happened. A bit comical in a sense. Ron panicked, of course: "Are you okay?"

He soothed her, and only when she looked back up at him did he understand it was not just about her relationship with Harry. It was everything about the war. Their escape. The hunt. Her torture. The final battle.

It was about Harry, on top of all of that. _Bloody insane, everything was._

And Hermione could not take this any more. She wanted her parents. Not the Weasleys, not Ron, not Harry. Definitely not Harry.

"I'm sorry," Hermione blurted out to Ron. He had lost his brother. And here she was crying for-

"Don't," Ron interjected. Hermione smirked in vain. Ron hadn't been her best friend for nothing. That, or it was easy to read her mind. "Just talk with him, 'Mione. This hasn't been easy on any of us… and you just don't see how he looks at you."

That got her eyebrows up. "What? He never looks my way!"

Realizing how awful that sounded, Hermione shook her head. "Ron, I'm sorry. This is really not appropriate for me to discuss when…"

"When Fred is gone," Ron finished. She hadn't paid attention to his bloodshed eyes. It had only been three weeks since the Battle, six days since Fred's funeral. The Weasleys had waited for their relatives for the burial.

"He is gone," Ron declared, looking lost despite his assured voice. "But it's not the end. With how Percy obsessively cleans up the joke shop, it will be the first place to be open in Diagon Alley after everything. F- Fred would have… would have wanted that. Wanted that more than anything. So yeah, it is okay to discuss how we'll continue."

His voice cracked and tears ran down his cheeks. Hermione immediately hugged Ron to relieve him of his sorrow.

"It's okay to mourn, too," Hermione whispered. "You don't have to be like Percy, somewhat getting back on track. Or like Bill- he does have a daughter now, unlike you. Not like Charlie, helping Mr. Weasley with the Ministry. Or George, or like Ginny. You just be you."

They stayed like that until Ron's sniffs silenced. He exhaled, "Thanks, 'Mione."

She stepped away, smiling.

"Talk to him," Ron said once again. He left only when she nodded in promise. She wished he had told her _how_ would she do it in the first place!

* * *

Two more days passed without talking to Harry. It was two days of observation how conflicted Mrs. Weasley was.

Victoire was a newborn, the cutest baby Hermione had ever seen. Fleur rarely came to Burrow as she tended the baby, but Mrs. Weasley went away to help her all the time. She and Bill were with Fleur during the day.

Hermione always welcomed Mrs. Weasley on her return with a warm smile mimicking hers. It was no wonder that the older witch was ecstatic- it was not everyday that one had a granddaughter. But by the evening, when the lights were out, and Hermione noticed Mrs. Weasley sat in her armchair in the darkness, the young girl witnessed the woman's cries in sadness.

Hermione always heard Fred's name, but the half-knitted jumper in Mrs. Weasley's hands was the one she had started for Victoire.

Watching her helplessly, Hermione realized how selfish she had sounded two days back when she had talked with Ron.

She _wanted_ to be selfish, because in the back of her mind, Hermione was dying to find her parents and restore their memories, but here she was in the Burrow, aimlessly intruding in people's lives.

Her war wasn't over- maybe the sole reason she had not shared the burden of the Weasleys as much. Shared Harry's burden as much.

The next morning, Hermione caught Harry before he left with Mr. Weasley to the Ministry. He had made a habit of going to the Ministry, always the Chosen One business or something like that.

"Good morning." Hermione proceeded to hug him tightly, which ended his greeting in a whisper.

"Hey," he said once she released him. It was his easy smile that she saw, the one she fell in love with. It was such a surprise considering his behaviour the past month. A tiny, guilty and selfish part of her suggested that one of the reasons Harry was distant had been because of her. Her own distance towards him.

That hadn't been the issue during the Hunt. Now that it was, and just now how Harry lightened up at the lightest of touches, Hermione realized they needed one another.

His green eyes sparkled in content when she further put her hand on his cheek. Leaning into the touch, he raised his hand to navigate hers for a soft kiss in the palm.

"Hey," Hermione whispered back to him. This was right. It was ridiculous how effortlessly Harry found the comfort of their relationship again. Hermione knew this meant there were no broken feelings about the past month: They had needed the time for themselves.

"I was thinking," Hermione started, but realizing they were making Mr. Weasley awkwardly wait, she pulled her hand away. "I have to check on my parents. I was thinking of going back home to-"

Harry's eyes sparked with fury, not at her soon she realized. "Don't go. Wait for me to come, yeah? We can go together. I'm sorry if… well… Hermione, I just… your parents weren't safe. I don't want you to go and…" Hermione blinked at what Harry was getting at. Truthfully, she never thought that far. He swallowed, "You shouldn't go anywhere alone, not when some of the Death Eaters are still at loose."

Registering his genuine worry, Hermione understood: She had never told Harry that she had wiped away her parents' memories and sent them away.

Hermione didn't particularly want to break the news of what she had done now when there would be hours till Harry came back to the Burrow, giving him ample time to make a fuss over it, but she didn't particularly wanted to waste time either.

She backtracked to Harry's suggestions and counted in the determination in his eyes. Even if her parents were across the other side of the world -they literally were-, Harry would be coming with her.

She wanted him to come with her.

"Alright," Hermione conceded. She had been thinking of buying airplane tickets to travel out of the Ministry radar anyway. She would buy two tickets to make herself useful till Harry came back. "I'll be waiting for you- don't be late."

 


	11. Chapter 11

Two months of nonstop search for her parents in Australia ended up being fruitless. Hermione had been unable to track their movement in the records and there were no spells to help either. Harry had objected to trying a nasty kind of blood magic, but even casting that in spite of their little spat, Hermione had not gained any insight into her parents' whereabouts.

She knew deep down, that spells could never point to graves.

Four months have passed since then, but Hermione still couldn't shake off that deduction. If Harry was here with her, she would have mentioned it. He would have mutely squeezed her hand. It wouldn't be enough.

Heck, she would have shared with Ron, too. She was alone, though. Not even Ginny had returned to complete their last year in Hogwarts.

Hermione closed her book and retreated to her dorm. Tomorrow she would leave for the Christmas holiday, and she was restless to meet with Harry. It has been long since she has seen him, and letters barely made up for his absence.

Thinking about his letters, Hermione heard a pecking on her window. It was Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl which was small compared to the parsels it carried. Hermione smiled, knowing it wasn't Ron who has sent the letter but Harry. Her two boys were off to Auror training and Ron had moved in with Harry to Grimmauld Place as a sign of independence from his family. Harry used his owl to send letters, refusing to own another owl after Hedwig.

Hermione sighed, thinking how Harry's eyes would glisten at the recollection of his loyal friend. It was cruel how Harry was nearly left with no one.

They had lost Sirius early on, and then Dumbledore was gone, Remus too, and Dobby, Fred, Moody, Hedwig...and the list went on.

Hermione shook her head. It was not good to delve on the dead.

"Come in, Pigwidgeon," Hermione let the bird in. She didn't have any treats to give it, but instead, she took a towel to dry it and gave it some water. It was snowing outside. "Let me see what you've got for me."

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope Pig won't nick me for sending it miles away to tell you this but I missed you. I can't wait for you to come home tomorrow._

_Yours,_

_Harry Potter_

_PS: Don't send Pig back. You can bring it with you tomorrow._

_PPS: "DON'T pack any homework with you. Please," says Ron._

Hermione snorted at the last note but she wasn't truly surprised. There were certain jokes that never tired of between old friends.

Her eyes glancing back at Harry's actual message, Hermione felt a warmth pooling inside her. She has missed him, too. So much. After returning from Australia, Auror training for Harry and Hogwarts for Hermione had indeed separated them.

Not anymore.

Lying back to bed, Hermione hardly fell asleep. How could she? Her excitement fueled her brain. First, she thought of Harry. He would wear his old Quidditch jersey he loved so much. Gryffindor colours went really well with his emerald eyes, not to mention. Hermione recalled his voice. His smile. His intent gaze.

Afterwards, she imagined their union. Would he give her a bear hug? Or a thorough kiss? Would he spin her in the air?

The two weren't public with their relationship, so Hermione doubted she would immediately receive a kiss. Harry was shy to actually kiss her -french kiss her- when people were around anyway, but the thought of it was nice.

When Hermione finally fell asleep, she decided it was enough if he hugged her and kissed the top of her head. He would make up for it that night.

* * *

"You wouldn't believe what a nightmare she is!" Ron exclaimed after swallowing his bite.

They were having dinner. Harry and Ron had both came to meet with her on King's Cross and took a cab back to Grimmauld Place. Since tomorrow was Christmas Eve, they would go to the Burrow, but tonight it was just the three of them.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's gossip. Apparently, coming across Pansy Parkinson at the Ministry had turned into his nightmare.

"What was she doing there, anyway?" Hermione asked. Ron had so far told about how Pansy had been shrieking at a poor employee behind the front desk. The former Slytherin had made a scene, apparently.

"Her Father had his trial a few months back but it was messy, has been ongoing till...what, last week? I heard the Ministry sent some people to collect what he owed when Mr Parkinson was sentenced, so there was confiscation on their properties," Harry informed her.

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. She had never liked the girl, she had been a nightmare as Ron had put it, back in Hogwarts. But it was sad to hear what was become of her. To come to the Ministry to shout at workers, though? It was being a bitch on a different level.

They must be going through hard times, especially financially if the confiscation was anything to go by.

"Parkinson didn't return to her last year at Hogwarts, did she, Hermione?" asked Ron. When she shook her head, he added, "Must be because of this whole thing. I doubt none of the Slytherins returned."

"Only one. It was Tracy Davis, the halfblood." Hermione added the last part so that Ron remembered the girl. She was the only Half-blood among the Slytherins. "They deserved it, though, Parkinson and the lot of them. At least their families. Also, Parkinson-"

Hermione was about to remind them how the other girl was ready to rat them out to Voldemort, but Hermione didn't want to remember the war. It was too early. For all the three of them.

"I don't think _she_ deserved it, Pansy I mean," Ron said surprisingly. "She is mean, and arrogant, and snotty and…"

Ron's expression had soured remembering Pansy Parkinson from school, and he even looked conflicted at his own initial thought.

"We know she is not a nice person," Harry intervened with a grin.

Ron snickered at that, "Yeah, she was a right bitch. But, you know, yesterday… You should have seen her. She ended up crying, it was… I feel sorry for her, I guess."

Hermione smiled. However unusual, this was definitely a sign that Ron matured over the months she had not seen him.

"Let's switch to the living room, shall we? You better tell me about your Auror training," Hermione changed the subject and the trio got to tidy up the kitchen. Ron was impatient so their funny stories started early. Hermione had cramps in her stomach from laughing before they got to the living room, no less.

She and Harry took the couch while Ron sat across at an armchair. It was so natural for Harry to wrap his arm around her, kiss her head, then continue the conversation. Hermione simply rested her head against him, hand on his leg, and she laughed at their jokes and revealed some more gossip from Hogwarts as well. Filch becoming a granddad thanks to a student's familiar becoming to intimate with Mrs Norris was by far what made Ron laugh the hardest.

When they were heading back to their rooms, it was well past midnight.

Ron said goodnight and closed the door. Finally alone with Harry, exhilaration tingled Hermione from head to toe.

She was staring above, at nothing, and constantly playing with her hair. The worst habit for the curly hair she had. She ended up getting it knotted.

"So," Harry said, a smile in his voice but a definite uncertainty as well.

"So," echoed Hermione and that moment, they stopped at Harry's door. Her room was ahead, on the left.

"I don't remember telling you how much I missed you," whispered Harry. Hermione smiled at the show of his Gryffindor bravery. If it weren't for the stupidly cute smile on his face, Hermione could have taken the statement as a suggestion. No, it was a joke.

"You actually did. Wrote it and said it, both. And I missed you, too."

It was Harry who was closer to the door, his back against it. So when he gently grabbed her waist to pull her towards him, causing her to stumble slightly in her surprise, all Hermione could do was giggle. It was hot in here, heat burning her face just as it did funny things to her stomach.

It didn't calm when she looked up at Harry.

Her breath caught at his intense gaze, and she could have sworn she actually stared hours instead of seconds before his head descended and soft lips were upon hers.

Hermione breathed a sigh when she got the chance. She missed him. She missed his warmth, his smell and his presence. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Hermione happily joined when he deepened the kiss.

He tasted so sweet, probably because of the Chocolate Frog he ate downstairs, but also because he was home for her, also happiness and peace she craved.

Harry removed one of his hands, and Hermione distinctly felt its absence on her skin. Thankfully, Harry moved his other hand upwards and inside her cardigan to which Hermione moaned in delight. A bit upper and she would get scratchy, though.

Smiling at his lips, Hermione got distracted when she heard that Harry was struggling with the door.

"Fuck," he hissed. "Just a moment," and the door opened. Harry was staggering backwards under his weight on the door.

Hermione giggled but her grip on Harry was tight so she righted him, and as soon as they were inside, she brought his lips back on hers. This time it was her hands that found his skin, she grazed the hem of his jersey, feeling his lower abdomen. Bringing the jersey up with her hands, she finally urged Harry to remove the garment. The glasses got in the way, but when his glasses were back in place and Hermione had also removed her own cardigan as well, Hermione pulled him to her to continue their embrace.

"Wait, wait," Harry stopped.

"What?" Hermione watched as Harry went to the door. It was slightly ajar.

"Just so Kreacher doesn't peek or anything," joked Harry but it only made Hermione shriek in disgust.

"Don't ruin the mood, Harry, please," she said with a giggle.

Harry eyed her lacy blue bra, and of course her pushed-up breasts, and he bit his lip. Looping his index finger on the belt of her trousers, he pulled Hermione to him.

"Oh, we shouldn't worry about that, because that's definitely" -he grabbed her left breast through the bar- "not the colour of my balls."

Hermione whined at his groping because it was not nearly enough. And, honestly, his joke…

"Harry, that was awful."

"That's what you love about me," he whispered. Hermione's eyes opened wide, but Harry only halted inches from her face, having realised what he had just said, then continued his act of capturing her lips.

Hermione decided, she could think about that tidbit of revelation later. Surely, it wasn't worse than 'Mrs. Potter'. Instead, she lost herself in their kiss, pressing herself flush against his broad chest.

Soon they were struggling with getting rid of their pants, and Harry was grinning like a wildcat when he saw that she was wearing matching knickers.

Hermione wondered what his face would look like to see that those very same knickers were drenched already. All for him.

Well, sitting next to one's loved one the whole evening and imaging how the night would play out did exactly that to a person. Especially after _months_ of separation.

Hermione backed away in the bed, arms supporting her as she suggestively displayed her legs. Her face was already flushed, but seeing Harry remove his boxers in his impatience made her especially giddy.

Following her to the bed, Harry came on top of her and snugly placed himself between her legs. This time he kissed near her ear.

"Anything else different in Hogwarts?"

Why was he asking—oh. Hermione groaned because this over-grown child was exactly the same as she had left him.

"I told you I missed you," whined Hermione, but as Harry dipped deeper to thoroughly kiss her neck, suck it more like it, she knew he wanted to hear it again. His hot member on her thigh was teasing still, too.

"I thought about you every night," Hermione confessed while her hands stroked his back. Harry turned his attention on her breast for that. His tongue wetted her bra, and the sensation drove Hermione into confessing much more. "I was so lonely. Some nights, I couldn't help it and thought… thought how it would be if you were there as well. In Hogwarts, in the Tower, in my bed. It was—- ah, Harry, yes!"

Harry tugged her bra below and her breasts spilt out, one for Harry to feast on and the other to fill his palm. It felt amazing when he sucked hard on her nipples, so wet and hot and _incredible_.

Hermione hardly realized Harry squeezed his hands underneath her to unclasp her bra, then it was gone.

Harry popped the nipple out and licked his mouth, "You were saying, luv?"

Kissing her sternum, Harry left a trail of kisses downwards. She was gasping as he headed lawfully too close to her sex.

It was excruciatingly hard to come up with anything to say because all of a sudden, Harry had grasped her knickers as well. It was gone immediately.

The next thing Hermione knew was that Harry was kissing the top of her mound, descending to her opening and taking a good lick. Hermione had been tingling, her nether muscles clenching and unclenching repeatedly till then, so when Harry especially licked her clit, she was spasming. She came, rather quick and little, but Harry grinned in victory indeed.

He continued without waiting, though. Hermione moaned in between Harry's kisses. Oh, would he continue down there?

Hermione's heat built up once again, especially spiking when Harry entered her with a finger. "Oh, Godric, Harry!"

Curling his fingers inside and pushing as further he could go, Harry also grazed her clit with his teeth. It didn't hurt, but it was hard and cool and just _alerted_ her, in such a different way that within minutes of her last orgasm Hermione was cuming again.

Through long effort, Hermione's gasps finally turned into deep satisfied breaths. Harry kissed below her belly once she had calmed, then he pulled himself up to kiss Hermione on the top of her head.

"Harry, that was-"

"I can't blame you for missing that," Harry said.

Godric, this man would make her crazy. Grabbing the back of his neck, she kissed him and tasted herself on his lips. It was a magnificent feeling. She could get used to this.

"I missed the taste of you as well," added Harry, talking to her lips. He pecked her again. "And I missed kissing you." One more kiss. "And I missed finding you curled in an armchair," now he couldn't properly kiss because of his stupid smile. "Reading."

"Funny, Harry James Potter," Hermione snarked playfully. "And trust me I definitely missed watching you play Quidditch."

That was definitely a lie. Harry snorted, knowing exactly that. "You like my uniform, though."

Hermione wanted to make her suggestion clear, so she took his head closer to her to lick his ear. "Your Auror uniform could do," Hermione whispered.

That earned her a lascivious grin. Next, Harry was kissing her again and moving his member over her sex.

"I missed that as well," mewled Hermione and finally she felt the tip of his penis positioned at the mouth of her entrance.

"I missed you," Harry whispered, to which Hermione could only nod, fiercely, because he had started pushing himself in, and he was stretching her so very very amazingly that…

"OH- that's! Oh, Merlin, yes," Hermione cried out tightening her grip on Harry's shoulders as she curled her toes.

Once he was fully seethed in, they both stopped to take a breath. Harry stole a kiss, not wanting to waste the moment.

Before Hermione knew it, he was pulling out, then he was back in again. Finding a suitable pace for their months of abstinence, Harry balanced himself on his upper arms to stroke her breast with one of his hands.

"You are so beautiful, and so tight, Hermione, God, I love this," Harry hissed. "I missed this. I missed you. God, you are perfect for my cock."

Hermione nodded while confirmations fell from her lips because she would not refuse anything to Harry. Nothing. At least not during sex. Sex that made her see fucking _stars._

Now Harry was pounding into her, unable to maintain a steady and slow rhythm. Hermione was as frenzied as Harry, she liked it that that particular itch eased into tingling electricity.

Moments later, Harry panted next to her ear just as she vocally urged him to go harder and harder, "-I'm so close, Harry!"

And she indeed was. When Harry blindly found the bud of nerves that only slightly got the pressure needed by the friction between their bodies, Hermione cried out at his touch because _finally_ her nerves had snapped, and she was cuming as she fantasized for months.

Harry grunted at the last few strokes, and hiding his head by her neck, he bit down as he spurted his seed inside her.

The warmth filling her made her giddy, and at the aftermath of her orgasm, Hermione found herself smiling and drawing circles on Harry's shoulder.

By the time Harry and Hermione calmed down, their sweat was cold as well. Harry's member had gone soft, so he easily slipped from inside her to roll on his side.

"That was…" he started, and Hermione finished for him, "Amazing."

Hermione smiled at him and reached to take off his glasses. Once for tonight should be enough, Hermione was tired from her road trip back home anyway.

Watching as Harry narrowed his eyes, Hermione put away his glasses. Then, she captured his lips and gave him a thorough good-night kiss.

It would have been the perfect night if it were not for a noise breaking the sound of their joined tongues and lips.

"Please put a silencing charm for the second time, will you?" Ron called from next door. "Unfortunately, mine didn't hold up long enough."

Hermione went scarlet red, but before she could find her wand, Harry had Accio'd his own. He had always been better at that spell.

Harry cast the spell and reached for his glasses, "Maybe I should hold onto these as well."

* * *

Before long, Hermione was boarding the Hogwarts Express again.

"So, we won't see you until graduation?" asked Ron, he didn't seem as sad as Harry apparently was.

"What about Spring Break?" Harry whined. He didn't like it when she was always busy, especially when she was away in Hogwarts.

"I told you I meant to go for internships. I was planning to see how the Ministry is before accepting a job there. Who knows, maybe that'll make me change my mind and finally I will agree with Flitwick to become a Charms specialist."

Harry rolled his eyes because this dilemma has been the only thing Hermione had been talking this past Christmas break. Hermione was truly indecisive though. Having left with no ultimate goal like fighting the evil Dark Lord, Hermione couldn't take fast and definite decisions.

"I'll see you at my graduation?" Hermione asked, correcting her hat. Curly hair made it hard to maintain small hats. This was one that she had sewn, hence the small size. No wonder the elves didn't like her clothes back in the fourth year, she was shite at making them.

"Definitely. And hopefully, I will have moved out by then," Ron commented with a grin.

"Funny," Harry remarked back with a grin. Ron would not make the two forget that thoughtlessness.

"Fingers crossed," Hermione called out, especially because she knew Ron would not be continuing Auror training. He had disclosed in private to her about his doubts about the hard workload of the job. Harry told her that Ron has been having doubts for the past month even, so it wasn't a hard deduction that Ron would be facing a hard time being unemployed in the near future.

It was a secret from the Weasley family, though. Hermione didn't worry much. She knew that Harry would be there for Ron when he collected the courage to share his final decision with the Weasleys.

The Golden Trio of Hogwarts was growing up, Hermione thought with a smile. It was alright, though.

They had each other.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOOOO,
> 
> There is only one chapter left, and that will be the epilogue. Hope you liked this chapter. I'm excited to hear your thoughts! :D
> 
> -Ydream08


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione cancelled her internship because she had important news for Harry. It couldn't wait. She wouldn't act about anything without sharing this with Harry.

So, at the dead of the night, Hermione packed her trunk and Flood to Grimmauld Place. Even though she had told the boys she wouldn't be visiting during the Spring Break, she would be coming over.

Hopefully, Harry was awake. Hermione didn't think she could wait for the morning.

* * *

Harry did the right thing and let Ron head out early. They were teammates as Aurors, but Ron had outright begged to not stay longer for paperwork, and Harry had obliged. It wasn't something he couldn't handle. And Ron was desperate to leave, telling Harry repeatedly that he was already late for a night out.

Guessing there was a girl involved, but not pressing the subject, Harry let his friend go.

Arriving at home around two in the morning was, however, was a new record for him. In the morning, he would sleep in.

While ridding himself of sooth, Harry noticed the faint glow coming from the living room.

Taking out his wand, Harry muttered some spells as he cautiously made his way. There, in the spacious room, a solitary lamp was on, and next to it, sat Hermione reading a book under the light.

Harry sighed a breath in relief at seeing her. He and Ron hadn't dealt with high-danger cases in some while, but it was worthwhile to be careful.

Hermione wore jeans and a thick and brown woollen jumper. Her hair was tied at the back in a ponytail, but she occasionally pushed away a few tendrils that bounced in front of her sight. Standing there and observing her pouting lips as she mouthed words, Harry counted five times she pushed away her hair.

Next, she frowned so deeply that Harry thought she would set fire to the book in a bout of accidental magic.

Smiling, he greeted her, "Hey, love, is this a surprise?"

"Harry!" she gasped, closing her book and reaching for her heart that probably leapt out of its place.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. It didn't occur to him that he was so quiet.

"I was waiting for you, how come I didn't hear—"

"Auror, remember?" Harry provided with a crooked grin.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. Harry was already crouching in front of her armchair when she put away her book and looked back at him.

Harry removed the stray hair from her face and gently put his hand over her cheek, caressing her soft skin with his thumb. "Hey, I missed you. I'm glad you came."

"I missed you, too. Sorry that I couldn't tell you earlier—"

"Surprise me like this and I can never fault you for that," Harry said with a wink. He reached to touch his lips softly at hers, but when he pulled away she followed him. Next, they were kissing slowly but deeply.

Oh, how much has he missed her!

Sighing to her delicious mouth, he broke the kiss. "It's late, why don't we go back to my room?"

She stalled him, however. At his questioning look, she rose to her feet and grabbed his hands in hers.

"Harry, I came because there is something you have to know."

With how worried she looked, and Merlin please not let it be, but _scared_ , Harry immediately thought the worst thing. It was in his nature.

"Did something happen?" Dolohov was on the loose. "Any attacks? Why didn't McGonagall notify me? You will stay here, I will check with—"

"Harry, I'm fine! I really am." He was unbelieving of her until she grabbed the sides of his head to lower him back to her lips. The kiss soothed him in a way that nothing could.

"So, what's wrong? I mean, it is not wrong for you to come here. You should; come that is. More often. I miss you all the time. Arg, Hermione! You drive me insane. Can you please…?"

Harry knew he was messing his hair to a point of no turning back. Great. Just when the new hair product he had found that helped him a little.

"I'll explain," Hermione assured him, this time with a smile on her lips. "I don't know how to do it, though."

There was a silence in which Harry couldn't put a finger on why exactly Hermione's smile grew wider. Her eyes shone as if the sun was right behind them.

Hermione opened her mouth, closed it and tried again. Harry was focused singularly on her.

"Harry, we have been dating… for some time now, and although we have been taking precautions… what I'm trying to say…"

There were a click and faint steps in the background that the two of them ignored unconsciously.

"Harry, I had to come this late and find you, because—"

Hermione took hold of his hands and squeezed.

"I'm pregnant."

Harry opened his mouth but someone else spoke instead of him.

"Blimey, we didn't get to my room yet! How can you be pregnant?"

Harry and Hermione both turned to look at a couple standing just at the opening of the living room. All Harry could think of as he stared at Ron and his lady friend was that he should have hinged a door to the empty frame. That way, this interaction which knew no boundaries for privacy wouldn't have happened.

"Weasley, it's not me who's pregnant," came a miffed but familiar female voice.

Somehow, Ron was able to unhand the young woman who wore a black mini tight dress. All the coughs and efforts of clearing throats bought time for Harry to turn back to Hermione, and he finally processed what she had said.

"You are pregnant?" he asked to which she nodded hesitantly.

"Congratulations, Hermione," came a timid but well-intent voice of Ron's companion.

"Thank you, Parki—Pansy."

"Bloody— wow, yeah, congratulations, Hermione! And Harry!"

Hermione's smile and nods brought all the sense back to Harry.

"We're having a baby?" Harry asked just to be sure. The excitement laced in his voice was no secret.

Hermione nodded again. "Yes. I mean I want to, and if you—"

"YES!" shouted Harry and lept to hug Hermione. He was laughing as he lifted Hermione up and spun her around.

When he put her back, he kissed her cheeks and pecked her mouth and hugged her again. And again. And—

"WAIT! Hermione, wait right here," Harry said and not so gently made his way between Ron and Pansy.

He had put it in his drawer, up in his room. Climbing the stairs two and three at a time, then rushing even faster back, Harry came in the living room with a red velvet box in his hand.

"I've been thinking since the Battle. I got it done that summer, actually. Do you remember my Mum and Dad's photo? I commissioned for the goblins to make something similar." Harry's mumblings were halted when he finally stared back into Hermione's eyes. "Hermione, you are everything to me. I would want to live the rest of my life with you. I will give whatever I have. My time, my heart, my everything. I want you to want me the same. Will you be my wife?"

There was no kneeling; no need for that. Harry simply opened the box, searched Hermione's eyes for affirmative and gently slipped the ring on her finger.

There was much more kisses and hugs after that. Well, kisses were for his new wife, and hugs for his best mate and Parkinson. Oddly, sharing this intimate moment with Pansy Parkinson didn't occur Harry to be anything but unexpected. There was genuine happiness in the eyes of his best mate's new girlfriend.

The group of four had to depart eventually and truthfully that ended up being awkward.

Only years later would they learn both couples had retreated to their rooms and simply fell asleep in their respective partners' arms.

Either way, it was a night that was recounted many times in the House of Potter, which only proliferated in number, wealth and fame as the years passed.

* * *

"This was supposed to be the last one, Harry! We agreed it was the last one!" hissed his wife who clutched at his hand.

"You are hurting me, love," Harry said. He faintly heard James' endless questions to their Aunt Pansy. Rest of the kids had been fooled to get ice-cream by Ron, but as the oldest, James had been smart.

Merlin knew what Pansy was telling him.

"Harry, I'm telling you, I will _murder_ you before you can ever convince me for another—"

"Please, darling. Our twins wouldn't want to hear their Mum threaten their Dad with murder, the first thing they arrive in the world."

"That's not helping," Hermione shouted. Harry had to admit she was funny, lovely but funny when she was all angry and fierce.

"Since I can't push _personally,_ love," he snickered, "You have to be content with that."

"Please, Mrs Potter, one last powerful push," the Mediwitch said, so Harry hushed and pushed away Hermione's hair in favour of helping her.

In seconds there was a shrill cry coming from their baby boy.

Hermione heaved a sigh of relief and smiled. Harry kissed the top of her head and wiped her forehead.

The Mediwitch smiled. "Now, let's get out the other twin."

**The END**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story. It surprises me how much I covered over the chapters for these characters! And honestly, writing about the trio where their relationship survived was so important to me. I know not all friendships last, but I guess I want to believe at least Ron, Harry and Hermione were able to do it.
> 
> Hopefully, we will meet at different -maybe new- stories!
> 
> Take good care!
> 
> Ydream08


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